Help
by nocturne-du-corbeau
Summary: Sherlock is hurt and John has to tend to him, leading to initially unintentional revelations of feelings, and to John helping Sherlock better understand emotions. Fluff/Smut Co-written. NSFW. Sherlock belongs to Gatiss and Moffatt and the characters belong to Sir ACD, not me.
1. Chapter 1

"JAWWWWN!" Sherlock called from his spot on the couch.

John was just coming up the stairs, back home. "Yes, Sherlock. What is it? Don't shout!"

"HELP ME, JAWN." Sherlock's voice sounded distressed and pained, as if it hurt him to shout as loud as he was.

John set his shopping bags on the floor and walked over to the couch. "Alright, alright. Stop shouting, will you? What's wrong?"

Sherlock moved his right arm, revealing a large gash on the side of his abdomen, sticky with dried - and fresh - blood. "H-help..." Sherlock gasped out.

"Oh," John gasped, not quite believing what he was seeing. "My god! What happened?"

Sherlock coughed a few times before replying in a scratchy voice. "Assassin... Caught me off guard while I was sleeping..."

John frantically began searching for his first aid kit. "Sherlock, I'll... I'll need to stitch it. And cover it with gauze. And apply a cold compress. I'll be back in a moment."

Sherlock nodded, using his limited strength to pull off his shirt. That would at least be a bit of help.

John disappeared into another room for a moment and returned with a large, white box. He was momentarily stunned by the sight of a shirtless Sherlock, but he quickly regained focus in order to save the man's life. "Now, lie still..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I'm going to thrash around." He muttered sarcastically. Even in a life threatening situation he still had to be Sherlock.

"Don't be an arse, now, Sherlock. You're injured and I'm trying to help you. Would you rather I let you bleed out? It wouldn't be easy to watch, but who says I'd have to stay here?" John threads a sterilized needle and ties it off.

Sherlock nodded and gazed up at John. "Thank you, John." He mumbled, his mind starting to get fuzzy from blood loss.

"Hush." John pushed the needle through one side of the wound, wincing as he did so.

Sherlock didn't really feel it. It already hurt beyond... Well, anything, so the needle didn't really do much for causing pain. He just closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else.

As quickly as he could, John stitched the wound shut. Tears were pricking the back of his eyes as he did, and he wasn't sure why. He cut the threads and picked up a large cotton ball and the brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

Sherlock finds that the wound feels at least a fraction of a bit better, and he opens his eyes again.

Gently, John cleanses the wound and the surrounding area. He then covers the stitches with a large square of gauze and tapes it down. He picks up the cold compress, snaps it to activate the cooling chemicals, and presses it to Sherlock's side, over the gauze.

Sherlock winces slightly at the pressure, but after that the cooling feeling really helps. Suddenly, Sherlock feels extremely tired, and closes his eyes again. " 'night, Jawn..." Sherlock mumbles in his already half-asleep state.

John gives a half smile, relieved that his friend will live to see another day. "G'night, Sherlock." He watches him drift off to sleep.

Sherlock is thrown into a swirl of nightmares, something that hadn't happened in over ten years. He hadn't even dreamed for the same amount of time, either. In real life, Sherlock twitched a bit, sometimes having full muscle spasms and all together looking like he was having a seizure.

John notices the fitful sleep and becomes immediately concerned. He rushes back to the couch. "Sherlock. Sherlock! Sherlock, wake up!"

Sherlock finally starts awake, his eyes darting fearfully around the room as if searching for whatever was haunting hum in his nightmares. Finally, after accepting that he was awake again, he looked over to John. "Hi."

John scoffs. "Hi. You scare the bloody hell out of me with your sleep seizing, and when, in a panic, I wake you up, all you've got to say to me... is 'hi'?"

"Oh, uhhh... Hello, then." Sherlock says with a weak chuckle. "Sorry about that... I, uhh... I think I just experienced a nightmare..." Sherlock confessed.

"Well, you're bloody casual about it: 'Oh, I just experienced a nightmare and scared you half to death. No big deal, Jawn.' I could kill you, you know that?"

"But you wouldn't." Sherlock replied swiftly. "And I'm sorry, if that helps anything."

"You're damn right, I wouldn't. And no, it doesn't. You're impossible sometimes, and I don't even know why I'm mad at you."

Sherlock chuckled. "See?" He relaxed again, still tired since barely got any sleep. His side still hurt like a bitch, too. "I've said it already but... Thank you John."

"You're bloody welcome."

Sherlock smiled up at John, one of the rarer occurrences in their flat.

John, scowling, looked down at Sherlock. Seeing his smile, he softened and smiled back.

Sherlock reached up and poked John. "Don't be so upset. No one's going to get rid of me that easy."

"I'm not upset. I..." he sighed.

"What?"

'I just... don't appreciate how many people try to kill, hurt, injure, or otherwise maim you."

Sherlock chuckled. "So you're worried about me, then" He teased.

"Yes... well, it would seem that way, wouldn't it? You're the genius detective. You figure it out."

Sherlock nodded and sighed slightly. Apart from the large, almost-fatal wound, today had been one of their better days; in Sherlock's view, anyway. The days when they were friendly like this were the best.

"Don't you sigh at me, Sherlock Holmes. What is it this time?"

"Hmm? Oh, it was just a relaxation sigh. A sigh of bliss, shall we say."

"Bliss?"

"Well, umm, yeah... I guess?"  
"Apart from this wound, today has been great."

"Bliss caused by, what, exactly?"  
"Oh? Sleeping on the couch and having nightmares is oh-so-wonderful, is it?"

"Hmm, well, apart from those, too."

"Well, what else has there been? Sleeping, an attack, a wound, and nightmares."

"Well, I had a delightful breakfast for once. It consisted of a muffin Mrs. Hudson bought and, well, that's it, but you get my point. I usually never eat. Secondly, you're here." He smiled up at John after his statement.

John looked immediately to the floor trying to hide the blush that was creeping up onto his face. "I do live here, Sherlock. I'm frequently here. You just seem to forget to notice."

"Well, I mean we are actually communicating like people should. We can sometimes go entire weeks without speaking a word to each other." Sherlock pointed out.

"I'd like to point out that that is not my fault. You like to ignore me. Frequently."

"Yes, okay. Still."

"I'm waiting for your point to be valid, Sherlock", an amused grin was plastered on John's face as he said this.

"Well, what I mean is that we are actually acting like friends instead of just flatmates. Yes, I admit to becoming buried in my thoughts and tuning everything out, but don't take it personally."

This was just too much… too easy. The amused grin stayed where it was. "Oh, but Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends," John teased.

"I don't." Sherlock agreed.

"So, we're back to square one: flatmates. Excellent work, detective."

"That's not what I meant." Sherlock sighed, exasperated. "I don't have friends, I don't have a friend, and I don't have just a simple flatmate either." He attempted to explain.

John's face fell into a serious expression. He knew when to stop teasing. "Then what do you have, Sherlock?"

"A best friend."

That damned blush came creeping back and John looks to the floor again. "Thanks..."

Sherlock nodded and looked over to John. "What do you think of me as?" Sherlock asked. It was a question he had actually been pondering for a while now.

The blush deepened and John didn't look up from the floor. "A best friend. You said it. Yep. Exactly that."

Sherlock blinked. "You don't sound very sure..."

John looks up at Sherlock. "Oh, why does it matter? You see me as a best friend, I'll say the same. Everyone is happy."

"Why, what do you /really/ see me as? Don't worry, it can't be that bad. I've most likely heard worse." Sherlock scoffed.

"You can't tell me you don't notice."

"Don't notice what? What am I missing?" He asked. "Always miss something..." He muttered under his breath.

John sighs and holds out his arm, looking Sherlock in the eyes.

Sherlock looks confused, a look he rarely wore. He gazed back into John's eyes, but for some reason wasn't able to read him for once.

"You figured out Irene. Can you deduce me, Sherlock?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock reached his hand out, slightly shakily and felt John's pulse. Fast. Faster than normal. Then it clicked. It all clicked inside his mind and he looked back into John's eyes. The pupils... No... John couldn't really be... "J-John..." Sherlock's voice sounded unsure. Definitely something that didn't happen a lot.

"Sherlock." He swallowed his nerves and didn't allow his gaze to waver from Sherlock's.

Sherlock pulled his hand away from where it had stayed on John's arm. He used it to gently sit himself up on the couch. He turned to face John, ignoring the sharp pain in his side. "John, I..." For once, Sherlock had no idea what to say.

John was at a loss for words. What could he say that his body hadn't already said? He looked back to the floor.

Sherlock and John sat/stood in silence for a few minutes before Sherlock finally broke it. "Me too."

John blinked and then turned to look at Sherlock. "What?"

"Me too." He repeated.

In disbelief, John had to form the words in his mouth before he could say them properly. "You... t-too...?"

Sherlock nodded. He almost felt ashamed of himself. He had sworn to himself he would never fall in love. Love was for ordinary people. But then again, that was before he met John...

John took a deep breath. This was certainly a shock to his system, and most of the oxygen had left his lungs. "And you're...sure?" He sat next to Sherlock on the couch, careful to keep at least 6 inches between them.

Sherlock took a shaky breath. "Yes."

"You don't sound very sure."

Sherlock gave him a sideways glance. "I'm sure."

"Okay," John exhaled, and placed his right hand between them on the couch, rather absent-mindedly. "Now what?"

Sherlock's eyes darted down to John's hand. Was it too early for that or...? It was so frustrating for Sherlock since he knew nothing about dating or anything like that. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"Something the matter?" John looked at Sherlock, slightly concerned.

"Not really... I just don't know how to do any of this." Sherlock admitted.

"I know," John smirked. He reached over and touched Sherlock's arm. "Do what feels right and I'll help where I can."

Sherlock looked over at John and nodded. "Okay..." He even smiled slightly.

John smiled back and gently stroked Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock felt a small shiver go up his spine. He had never really been touched affectionately before and he quite enjoyed it... Much to his surprise.

John watched Sherlock's body language, and decided it was ok to reduce the gap between them

As John moved slightly closer, Sherlock's mind finally sorted all these thoughts and accepted what was happening. It was a nice change.

"I'm sorry I never said anything. I may have been a soldier, but I'm a coward where feelings are involved."

Sherlock looked down. 'It's fine, John." He assured, placing his hand over top of the one John had on his arm. "Better now than never

"It wouldn't have done well with me for either of us to die someday without you knowing that I love you."

Sherlock's heart skipped, like, six beats. That was the first time John had said the three words out loud. It sounded beautiful. 'Yeah. That wouldn't do."

"But you know now," John smiled.

"Yes, I do." He smiled back.

John pondered it for a moment. He realized he had always said it in his head, under his breath, in his sleep, and even whispered it when he was alone. He looked Sherlock directly in the eyes and, smiling, said, "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." It was the first time he said it all out loud. His heart swelled with emotion. It felt so right coming out of his mouth.

Sherlock was unable to speak for only a moment before he allowed his feelings to take over and respond correctly and truthfully. "I love you too, John Watson."

John's happiness was almost overwhelming. He leaned over and kissed Sherlock on the nose.

Sherlock's pale cheeks reddened slightly, though it showed a lot because of his extremely pale complexion.

John smiled even wider, if that was possible. "That's a charming look on you. That's the most color I've ever seen you wear," he teased.

"Oh, be quiet." He grumbled, though he had a smile on his face. Sherlock gazed into John's eyes and for once felt completely safe and accepted.

John's gaze darkened, but not in a malicious way. "Why don't you make me?"

"Is this a challenge?" Sherlock asked playfully. He knew what John was hinting at but couldn't help but feel almost excited.

"It would seem that way, yes," John grinned.

"Well, I accept this challenge." Sherlock said as he shifted slightly closer to John, being careful with his side.

John had to avoid looking at Sherlock's chest to maintain eye contact, which was difficult as he was still shirtless...and glorious. "Try me."

Sherlock smirked slightly and nodded, leaning down slightly so their foreheads touched. "You are mine now." He whispered as he gazed into John's eyes.

John's breath caught in his throat. This was unexpected, but it was most certainly welcome... and sexy. That smirk. That voice. The way he whispered. Those eyes. It was almost too much. He whispered back, "For as long as you'll have me around, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock grabbed the front of John's sweater almost roughly and pulled them together into a kiss. He had never really kissed before, but it was easier than it looked, so he just rolled with it.

John was pleasantly surprised by Sherlock's assertiveness in this department. He smiled, closed his eyes, and melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's shoulders

Sherlock also adjusted himself into the kiss, making it sweeter than it was. He felt more feelings he'd never felt before but accepted them. This was his 'new' life.

John sighed happily, and reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, slowly. "Wow", was all he could manage.

Sherlock nodded in agreement, though his slightly deeper breathing was making his side hurt again. He winced slightly but shook it off.

John smiled, "I may be your best friend, and I may love you, but I'm still a doctor. Take it easy with that wound"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, yes. I'm fine, John. I've been through worse." He muttered.

"I know that, but if you do anything to disturb the healing, it's going to hurt worse. I don't like seeing you in pain."

Sherlock sighed then nodded. "Yes, Mother." He muttered under his breath.

John reached up and grabbed a small handful of Sherlock's hair at the back of his head and tugged on it, not painfully, but enough to get Sherlock's attention and to exhibit control. "Don't you sass me, Sherlock bloody Holmes."

"Ack-" Sherlock rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, fine." Sherlock leaned back against the couch.

John admired Sherlock sitting next to him for a brief moment before leaning over and softly kissing the space below his ear.

Sherlock didn't say anything, only looking at John through the corner of his eye.

John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder, a concerned look on his face, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Why must you assume something is wrong every time I do something?" He asked, leaning his head on top of John's head.

John's brow furrowed, but he smiled a little anyway. "I just told you that I love you and we kiss and you sit here, quietly, not doing much. It looks like something is wrong. That's all."

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, you're the one that just told me to be careful with my side." Sherlock responded snarkily.

"That doesn't mean you have to sit in silence and do nothing. It just means that I don't want you to over-exert yourself and cause further injury. You can do things, you just have to be gentler than usual," John explained.

Sherlock sighed but nodded. Only a fool would argue with their doctor. "John... Why do you love me?"

John sat up, a little surprised. He had never really put it all into words before; it was just something he had been feeling that continued to grow. Sure, he had fought it for a while, but he had come to accept it.  
"Well, I love /you/ Sherlock. I love /who you are/. You never cease to amaze me. You're brilliant, wonderful, brave, and… beautiful. Inside and out. And, since I've come to know you, I've seen the heart that others seem to ignore: the heart that makes you human. You care, Sherlock. I know you do. I once saw you throw a man out of our window because he had hurt Mrs. Hudson, and you saved my life multiple times. Underneath your inconsiderate, arrogant, detached superhuman exterior is a man with a heart, dreams, and feelings."

Sherlock felt actual tears prick the corners of his eyes and he did all he could do to keep them from falling. That was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard anyone say, and it almost made him cry. Cry with happiness, that is. "John I... I don't know what to say," He muttered.

John smiled softly.  
"You don't have to say anything. But I do mean it, Sherlock."

Sherlock felt his head rest against John's shoulder without thinking and he closed his eyes. "Thank you." He breathed.

John turned his head, buried his nose in Sherlock's curls, and kissed the detective's head.  
"Why is it that /you/ love me, then, Sherlock? I'm ordinary, boring, and nothing special. I'm just John Watson."

Sherlock chuckled slightly. "You're extraordinary. You are one of the only people that care about me. You understand me most of the time and you don't just... Give up and leave. You're an amazing person, and that's just the inside.

John started to melt, but he wanted to hear more, this being the first time he ever heard Sherlock not only talk about feelings, but about the way Sherlock felt about him. He smirked, "Oh? Just the inside? Is there something about the outside, too?"

Sherlock felt his face go slightly red. "You... You're the cutest and most beautiful man I've ever met, John. I can't even begin to describe the feeling. The way you talk with facial expressions, your nose, your lips..." He trailed off and paused for a moment. "The way I want to run my hands through your hair and never let go."


	3. Chapter 3

John couldn't hide the wide grin that had spread itself across his face and stuck there, nor did he want to. His heart was doing mini-cartwheels; he still couldn't believe that /Sherlock Holmes/ loved him and found him "cute" and "beautiful".  
"I'd let you," he murmured, still smiling and looking at Sherlock, his voice filled with excitement, love, and wonder.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile either, and soon they were both chuckling like second graders after hearing the word 'butt.' He snuggled closer to the doctor, the smile still not leaving his face. It felt so good to be so close to John after all this time.

John held the detective close, tightly. He was experiencing the first true happiness he had ever felt, and it was only the beginning. He was still ecstatic that Sherlock returned his feelings. John sighed a happy sigh, and prepared for the question he was about to ask.  
"Erm, Sherlock…" he began, unsteadily, "I don't want to ruin this moment, but there is just one thing I am rather curious about…"

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked up into John's eyes. "Yes, what is it?" H asked, sounding slightly conserned. He hoped it wasn't something bad.

Nerves kept John from making eye contact.  
"Ha-have… have you ever…" he stammered, "though about… intimacy…w-with… me?"  
He managed to ask the question, but not without turning a ripe shade of pink, and he was holding his breath now.

Sherlock didn't say anything, looking away for a moment. "Yes." He finally says, not meeting eye contact with John.

A wave of relief washed over John, and he exhaled slowly, calmly. "Really?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Yes. John. I have." He muttered, almost as if he regretted it.

John squirmed, eager.  
"Will you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, what kind of intimacy," John explained.

Sherlock blushed slightly. "Well, mostly just kissing but..." He trailed off once again.

"But, what, Sherlock," John prompted. "I'm not going to pressure you into anything, I'm just curious as to your thoughts."

"There may have been a few compromising thoughts."

"Such as…?"

Sherlock didn't say anything. "I'll leave that for you to think about."

John was noticeably shifting now. "Well, then I'll just have to think about the 'compromising' thoughts that have crossed my mind before."

Sherlock froze. "Y-you too, then...?" He asked uncertainly.

The corner of John's mouth turned up in a sort of half-smile.  
"Yes, Sherlock," he chuckled, "Me too. Especially in that sodding purple shirt of yours."

Sherlock blinked a few times. "I didn't know you liked it that much."

John laughed. "You mean the world's only consulting detective actually /missed/ a detail, a clear observation?" he teased.  
"But yes, Sherlock, I like it /that much/. You've no idea the things I'd do to you and for you." John's voice a dark and heavy with an underlying lust.

Sherlock leaned over and kissed John again. He didn't care if it was awkward or not, he just needed to feel John's lips against his. He held tightly to the front of his shirt and kissed him with passion.

Without much consideration, John moved and wrapped his arms tightly around the detective's lanky body, pulling him closer as their mouths crashed together in a fury of heat and passion. Unintentionally, John moaned against Sherlock's lips as he parted his own to take their kiss a step further.

Sherlock's lips moved with John's and within a heartbeat their tongues were tangled together. Sherlock made a soft sound, almost a moan but not quite. He pressed closer to John, swinging his leg over John and hovering above his lap.

Every movement Sherlock made, with or against John, was completely welcome. The sudden intimacy between the two friends was new, but utter bliss. John wasn't really surprised to find out that Sherlock tasted of cigarettes (he had been caught sneaking one every now and again), tea, and take-away; it was a surprisingly beautiful thing and he relished it.

Sherlock felt his arms reach up and his hands latch on to John's shaggy hair. He pulled them closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. He continued to kiss John until he was so caught up, he forgot to breathe. Then they parted, Sherlock breathing deeply as he gazed into John's eyes with passion.

John was panting as they parted, and he found that he couldn't break his gaze from Sherlock's. His pants had become tight and slightly uncomfortable.  
"I need… I... I want… /you/," he breathed, desire evident in his voice.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed him again. It only lasted a few seconds, but it held so much more. "I give my consent," was all Sherlock muttered out before their lips were crashing together again.

John's hands were running all over Sherlock's bare chest and abdomen as they kissed.  
'He even /feels/ beautiful," was John's only thought. He was trying to focus on the passion he was feeling. He almost let it carry him away when he realized this was their first time, and Sherlock deserved to be taken properly, on a bed, not shagged on a couch. This needed to be special.  
John broke their kiss just long enough to speak one word: "Bedroom."

Sherlock felt a shiver go down his spine as the single word was spoken. He nodded, threading his fingers calmly through with John's as they both stood up and started heading for the bedroom.

The second they were in Sherlock's bedroom, John lightly kicked the door shut, crossed to the bed, and pulled Sherlock down on top of him, resuming their hot, needy kissing. He broke away again only to remove his jumper and begin on his shirt buttons, and to confirm, "Sherlock, are you… are you certain?"

Sherlock took a deep breath then nodded. "I'm sure, John." He climbed closer to John, running his lips down the side of his face unlit he reached the neck. He gave John soft kisses until he got to the collarbone and he started to kiss and suck and occasionally bite.

The buttons undone, John let his shirt fall open as he moved his arms around Sherlock's shoulders. He buried his hands in the man's hair. Somehow, Sherlock knew /exactly/ what he was doing and that drove John even wilder. He closed his eyes, savoring Sherlock's every kiss and nip on his flesh. Occasionally, a soft sound, not unlike a moan, escaped his lips.

Sherlock continued to suck and bite one spot, fully intending on leaving a love bite. His hands rested on John's hips and he shuffled even closed, their chests becoming flush against each other.

The mixture of Sherlock's actions and the feeling of their hearts beating near each other behind bare chests made John break out in goosebumps. He tilted his head away from Sherlock, exposing more of his neck.

Sherlock finally pulled his mouth away from John's neck to examine his work. He deemed it good enough, and so he kissed John on the lips once again. It was gentle and only lasted a few seconds, but it was amazing.


	4. Chapter 4

John moved, and he and Sherlock rolled together; he was on top of Sherlock now, planting kisses on his lips and down his neck, chest, and abdomen. John pulled his own shirt the rest of the way off as he did this.

Sherlock was completely seduced, allowing John to do the wonderful things to his body. He let out a quiet moan, biting his lip in embarrassment.

John smiled against Sherlock's flesh when he heard him moan. To know that he was at least beginning to please this man encouraged him. He ran his left hand up and down Sherlock's side, gently, as he let his tongue wander over the detective's partially-exposed hipbones.

Sherlock's toes curled slightly as he sat up and brought John up with him. Their lips met again for a brief moment before Sherlock's hands took the brave risk to dart towards the front of John's jeans, undoing the button quicker than thought possible.

John couldn't help but smile at Sherlock's eager movements. It took only a moment, and soon they were both in nothing but boxers. John could hardly breathe, admiring the sight that lay beneath him. He leaned down to kiss Sherlock again, moving his hips just so. They both gasped as their erections brushed against each other, and John began to grind his hips against Sherlock's. He wanted this to last, so he was building up the anticipation.

Sherlock bit his lower lip as the pleasure started to course through his body. His hands rested on either side of John's hips, encouraging him every so often with a small squeeze or a push. His eyes were filled with lust, and from what he could see, so were John's. At this point, he was unable to think, the lust and need fizzing his mind. It felt numbing and new, since usually he could find no way of stopping his thinking trains.

Sitting up, John began to remove first Sherlock's boxers, then his own. He drew in a shaky breath as he gazed at Sherlock, now fully nude, below him. He caressed the inside of Sherlock's left thigh with his right hand before leaning to reach his pants and the wallet inside. He opened the wallet, and pulled out one of his lubricated condoms.

Sherlock couldn't help but gaze back at John, admiring the view he had. John's body was breathtaking, even the large scar on his shoulder. He was perfect. He watched as John took the item out, and he couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "Prepared?" was all he said.

"Always," John breathed, smiling. He rolled the condom on.  
"Are you?" He positioned himself against Sherlock's buttocks.

Sherlock nodded, finding himself to be almost shaking from the lust. He needed John, and he needed him now.

Drawing in a deep breath, John eased himself into Sherlock, slowly. The tightness squeezing him was ecstasy and he let out a low moan. Sherlock wasn't protesting, so John began to move, slowly and gently at first.

Sherlock bit his lip, his fingernails digging into the skin of John's back. It hurt so bad. So bad, and yet he craved more. He let out a low growling sound as John moved inside of him, the pain turning to raw pleasure.

"Ah, Sherlock," John hissed through clenched teeth, a reaction to Sherlock's fingernails biting into his flesh. He was focusing on keeping his control, still moving slowly, carefully, gently… still afraid of hurting the man he loved so much.

Sherlock loosened his hold slightly so he wouldn't break the skin. He moved his hands to John's waist, starting to pull him foreword, encouraging him to move faster.

Sherlock's hands on his waist sent a buzz of electricity straight to John's groin. He moaned and slowly began to increase his thrusting speed. He wasn't sure his heart was even beating anymore, and he was breathing harder now. Lust had taken over his entire body. He didn't even feel like himself anymore. He felt like a stranger in his own skin.

Sherlock's back arched up, pushing himself closer to John. He started trusting his own hips in time with John's, having more force this way. "M-more." Was all he could manage out with all the pleasure coursing through him.

John could feel his orgasm building from his core with each thrust and he began moving harder, more urgently. Again, a buzz of electricity went straight to John's groin. This time, it was from the lust-heavy need in Sherlock's voice. Keeping one hand on Sherlock's right leg, he used his right hand and began stroking Sherlock's member, coaxing him towards a simultaneous orgasm. They were both moaning now, Sherlock succumbing to his own ecstasy, and John grunting lightly with each thrust, eager to please the detective.

Sherlock's arms continued to pull John in closer, his breaths coming quick and short between long moans of John's name. He could feel the pressure Building up inside of him, and soon their thrusts became animalistic, without any pattern or speed, just trusting in a frenzy as it built up. "J-John-" He gasped out between moans, his pupils dilating and his mouth hanging open slightly. He was going to come very soon.

Every one of John's nerves was becoming hypersensitive. Everything was intense: he was very aware of his breathing pattern, aware of the pounding of his heart, the squeezing feeling from Sherlock's arse around his cock. He was directly on the edge of orgasm.  
John took his hand away from around Sherlock's member, Sherlock gave a whine of disappointment, and he grabbed Sherlock's hips with both hands and pushed in as deep as he could, sending himself over the edge. It was one of the most intense and satisfying orgasms John had ever had. "Sherlock…" he breathed as he came. It wasn't just a name; it was a prayer, a promise. He held himself inside Sherlock for a moment longer.

Sherlock came simultaneously with John, coming all over his and John's abdomens. He momentarily stopped breathing, the overload sweeping through his body like a wave. His toes curled and his fists clenched into the sheets as he rode out his orgasm. He didn't say anything, instead he shot John the most lust-filled and exhausted look he could, pulling him and kissing him weakly. "Thank you, John..." He breathed.

John kissed back, breathing heavily as if he had just run cross-country. He pulled the rather full condom off and dropped it in the rubbish can beside the bed. Snuggling up to Sherlock as his breathing began to slow back to normal, John whispered, "I love you, Sherlock," and he laid his head on the detective's chest, warm and happy and satisfied.

Sherlock panted and held John close, smiling ever so slightly. "L-love you too, John." He muttered, completely exhausted and ready to sleep... for once.

Once John's breathing returned to normal, it slowed into a deep, even in-and out. He had fallen asleep with the faint trace of a smile on his lips, warm and happy in his lover's arms.

Sherlock, too fell asleep quickly, a faint smile on his face as he did.


End file.
